His timing is way the hell off. Tightening my thighs, I pinch her heart-shaped chin, and force her to look at me. “This is no joke.”
She licks her lower lip. “Never said it was.”
“Who did you speak with last night?” I bend over until the tips of our noses connect, and the black centers of her eyes widen.
“None of your beeswax.”
I inhale, the air chock-full of pheromones and brush my mouth across hers. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”
The tip of her pink tongue caresses my upper lip. “I’m guessing you are many things, Wesley. Safe, is not one of them.”
Lifting her head, we connect and like the last time we kissed, fireworks explode inside my brain. My stiffy swells, I groan, and God help me, take it deeper.
She opens wide so I can play and while I thrust, she sucks. On my elbows, I cup the back of her head, and grind my want to her abs.
Dammit, man, she’s still tied up.
“Don’t stop.” She bites my lip and when her loose robe parts, she arches up and moans my name. “Touch me.”
As my palm, moving purely from instinct, slides over a pebbled nipple, my motherfucking phone rings and douses my lust better than ice water.
What the hell was I thinking? I untie her hands and as she releases her own ankles, I throw clothes at her. “Get dressed. We don’t have time for this.”
“Why? What happened?”Is she lying or does she honestly not know?
“The cotton inside the damned smart-doll was soaked in fentanyl.”
“Thank God I told the guy last night it hadn’t arrived.” Her eyes go wide, and I press her for answers.
How can I keep her safe if she keeps secrets from me? “Told who?”
“Mr. Lapa. He said my uncle sent him but now, I’m beginning to wonder.”
“We need to go.”
“But my mom…”
“Will get along without you. Believe me, she’d rather have you miss a few days than end up dead.”
After squeezing into tight jeans and a loose sweater, she slips on the same fuck-me thigh-high boots she had on last night. “Can I just talk to her?”
“Nope. Find a suitcase or a knapsack. We’re out of here.”
“You can’t boss me around. I need to go to work.” She zips up her jacket.
I blame being roofied for what happens next. As she dons a hat, I throw her over my shoulder and when she kicks, I spank her ass like the spoiled brat she is.
Then, I place her in the car, still struggling, and zip tie her hands to the headrest. Once I have her buckled in, I jump behind the wheel.
I note the Gold Impala is gone. Unlike his female cousins, Joey has self-preservation skills, no doubt lodged in his Y chromosome.
As I peel out of the driveway, she mouths off, and juts out her chin. “You didn’t even ask what I accomplished last night.”
“Whatever it was, the cost was too high.” If not for this sense of urgency, I’d pull to the curb and kiss the defiant look off her face.
Instead, I touch her neck and soften my tone. “He could’ve killed you.”
“But he didn’t. Believe me, it was worth the risk.”
